Had Max happened to be a few years older, he might have counted upon rapid promotion; he might even, in spite of his inexperience and lack of technical training, have been given the full command of a submarine, or been appointed as a Zeppelin officer, charged with the duty of voyaging in an airship across to England to drop incendiary bombs upon enemy towns.
But owing to his extreme youth he could not at present hold a higher rank than that of midshipman, even though his actual duties were those of a sub-lieutenant.
Still, as Max himself realised, it was better to be serving as a junior officer in a submarine and doing important work for the Fatherland than to be tramping the quarter-deck of an idle battleship with no immediate chance of fighting.
They had met now, quite unexpectedly, on the quay at Brunsbuttel, at the western outlet of the Kiel Canal. Max had just come ashore from the U50, which had entered from the sea and been moored alongside of other submarines within the massive lock gates. He had been marching along the stone parapet, feeling very important in his naval uniform, with its gold lace and brass buttons, and proudly conscious of the Iron Cross which dangled conspicuously from his expanded chest.
Seamen and marines saluted him ceremoniously as he strode proudly past them; he, himself, saluted all officers of higher rank than his own. As he turned sharply round the corner of the custom-house, he came almost full tilt against Admiral von Hilliger, resplendent in gold lace, medals, epaulettes, and cocked hat, and escorted by two flag officers.
Max clipped his heels together and saluted. The admiral flung out his arms.
"Ach, my dear Max," he cried, embracing the embarrassed midshipman, "how it rejoices me once again to see you! It is good we have met. In one hour I should have been gone across to Wilhelmshaven, and you would have missed me. Come! You will take midday eating with me. There is much that we have to say to each other."
Max followed him and the two officers through intricate passages between huge stacks of ammunition boxes and naval stores, and across an open pavement to the front of an hotel. Here the two officers stood aside, and Max went past them with his uncle up the steps and into a little room whose windows looked out upon the grey estuary of the Elbe and the distant fleet.
Admiral von Hilliger turned the key of the door, glanced behind a curtain, and even into a cupboard, to assure himself that he was alone with his nephew; then took his stand in front of the stove and lighted a very long cigar.
"During the seven minutes before lunch," he began, "we will talk business. What have you been doing in the past two weeks? How many more of the mischievous enemy's ships have you sunk with your brave submarine?"